


’Til the sirens sound, I’m safe

by allyss



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, hahaha i'm sorry about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyss/pseuds/allyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of Tumblr Prompt by otpdisaster: Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Honestly, this wasn’t how he’d thought he’d go. He’d imagined that one day Peter would slash his throat, or an evil spirit might blow his brains out. Hell, in his wildest dreams he’d thought he might go out like Allison – a hero, saving his friends. Not like this. Not alone, gutted in the street over the couple of bucks in his wallet. No, this wasn’t how Stiles had thought he’d go.

Not that he ever wanted to go at all.

He presses his hand against the wound, grateful that the mugger had forgotten to take his knife out his stomach. That’s good, he tells himself. The knife will stop him for bleeding to death too quickly. It means he still has time.

It’s too hard to stand now. He falls back against the wall and slides to the floor. He fumbles for his phone, his hands shaking and bloody. He dials _911_ like he has done a hundred times and is glad, for once, that it’s not his Dad picking up.

“911, what is your emergency?” The operator answers.

“Yeah – hi – there’s been an accident. Well, no.” He chokes out a laugh and it hurts. “I’ve been stabbed. I need help.”

“Alright,” the operator says. “Where are you?”

He isn’t sure. All the streets look the same. It seems stupid now – he’d gone to check out Berkeley without telling Scott. It’s not like he’s going to get in – he definitely won’t now – but he’d gone on the off chance, and not wanted to tell his friend, who was failing his classes all over again. He describes the street, the buildings and the bar he’d just been in and the operator tells him they’ll be there soon.

“Stay on the line.” They say.

“Thanks,” he breathes before he hangs up.

There are so many people he wants to call. But there isn’t time. His fingers dial her number, smearing blood across the screen of his phone. She picks up on the second ring. She knows this is coming. She knows.

“Stiles?” Lydia answers, sounding worried. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Lydia.” He smiles. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Yes, there is. I just had a really bad feeling, Stiles. Something is going to happen. You’re going to -” She starts to say, then stops. She pauses for a moment and he can picture her so clearly. She’s touring campuses. Harvard, he thinks. Or Brown. He can’t remember. College reps have been hounding Lydia for months, desperate for a brilliant mind like hers. “Where are you? How’s Berkeley?”

“It’s great.” He says, closing his eyes. “I wish you were here with me.”

“Stiles…” she murmurs, her voice quietly breaking. “If you’re in trouble, tell me. I can help you. I can call Scott -”

“No.” He doesn’t want Scott to know. Not yet. Not until it’s too late. He knows all too well that if Scott thinks there’s a chance to save him, he’ll never forgive himself when it fails. Stiles won’t let himself be like Allison in that. He won’t let himself be a source of regret. “D’you remember – that day in the locker room. We never talk about it. I – I never thanked you.”

“You did.” She says after a moment.

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes and it makes him smile.

“Not properly.” He mutters. “I just wanted to say – it wasn’t just a crush. And I’m sorry I wasn’t around much after Allison –”

“Why are you telling me this, Stiles?” Lydia asks slowly. “If nothing’s wrong, then why are you telling me this now?”

He laughs quietly. She’d always too smart for her own good.

“I love you, Lydia. Always have.” It feels good to say it. To finally say it after all these years. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of him. It’ll be easier to go now, knowing that she knows. “And I’ll always be grateful that I got to know you – and – I just wish -”

“What?” She cries. “What do you wish?”

He wishes that he could see her one more time. And that he could’ve taken her to prom. He’d been thinking about it a lot lately – imagining how beautiful she looked and the way she’d laugh when he presented her with some dorky corsage his Dad made him get. There was going to be a tribute to Allison at prom – something they knew she would’ve hated. He’d thought that they might go somewhere else, have a drink for their old friend and just be together and happy – Allison would’ve liked that.

“Stiles?” Lydia’s voice seems far away now. “Stiles, hold on. I’m coming. I’m in my car right now, just tell me where you are. Tell me where you are and I’ll – just hold on, okay? I texted Scott. He’s knows. He’s already on his way. We just need to know where you are.”

He can hear sirens. He opens his eyes and sees the flashing lights at the end of the street.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay.”

He can hear her crying, and he wonders if she wants to scream. He remembers the way she screamed when Allison died – how she said her friend’s death tore through her – and he hopes it doesn’t happen with him. He wants her to be okay. He wants her to go to Harvard, to win the Fields medal – or the Nobel Prize – whatever she wants. He needs her to be okay.

His Dad will be okay – Scott and Melissa will always make sure of that. But what about Lydia? He remembers the way she withdrew from them after Allison, how quietly she suffered. It was so easy to forget. He hopes they’ll look after her. That they’ll all be okay.

“Stiles? Stiles!” She sobs and his arm shakes. He can’t hold up his phone anymore. “Don’t do this to me. Please. I love you too, okay? I love you, Stiles. I love you, and I can’t believe you’re making me tell you like this. Please, just hold on for a little bit longer.”

“Okay.” He sighs.

He can’t hear her anymore and it’s okay. His arm – too heavy to hold up any longer – falls to his side. The pavement is cool and comforting and it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. _I love you,_ she’d said. As he closes his eyes, he smiles.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She finds the dead bodies. It’s what she does.

She doesn’t want to find Stiles’.

She clutches her phone tightly, waiting for him to say something else. But the line is dead. He stopped talking a long time ago. All she can do is sit in her car, miles from where he is, and wait. She presses her forehead against the steering wheel, holding her breath to keep from screaming.

She can feel where it hurts. She touches her stomach and half-expects to be bleeding too.

She closes her eyes and digs her nails into her palms. She can’t go through this again. She can’t add another name to the list. Erica. Boyd. Allison. Aiden. _Stiles_. She can’t go to his funeral and see all the people who loved him. She can’t hear how much he meant to them. She won’t be able to face the Sheriff, who’ll have lost everything. She won’t be able to face herself.

She wants Allison. She needs her best friend to tell her it’s going to be okay.

But Allison is gone. And Stiles…

Lydia’s phone rings and her hands shake as she lifts it to her ear.

“Scott?” She answers, her voice breaking.

“Lydia.” Scott breathes. He sounds relieved. “I called all the hospitals in Berkeley. Stiles was brought into one a couple of minutes ago but he’s being transferred somewhere else. I guess that’s a good sign.”

It isn’t. But at least it means he’s alive.

“Okay,” she murmurs shakily. “I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.”

“Lydia,” Scott starts. “He called you...”

She hears everything Scott leaves unsaid and it hurts more than if he’d just said it. She leans against the back of the seat and closes her eyes again. She thinks she hears Scott sigh. “Was he calling for help?” Scott asked her, “Or… or was he saying goodbye?”

Neither, she almost says. Stiles never said goodbye.

_If you die_ , he’d once told her, _I will literally go out of my freaking mind_.

It hurts. It hurts more than she can bear. She finds the bodies, that’s it. She’s not meant to live with their ghosts. But she does. She’s the crazy girl with a dead best friend and voices in her head.

“I think he just…” She starts to say, but stops herself with a sigh. “He wanted to tell me -”

She can’t say it, and she doesn’t need to. She hears Scott’s breath hitch and knows he understands. Scott hangs up with a muffled apology and she can only hope that there’s someone with him. She thrusts her key into the ignition and slams her foot down on the gas, her shitty rental car swerving out of the hotel car park and onto the street. She drives and drives and drives and when she reaches the airport she buys the first ticket out of there.

The people on the plane stare at her, wonder if she’s okay, and she ignores them.

She reaches him in eight hours and twenty three minutes.

Scott is the first person she sees and she rushes into his arms.

“It’s okay,” Scott says. “It’s going to be okay.”

She opens her eyes and sees Kira over his shoulder. The girl smiles at her, her makeup all smudged and her hair rumpled, and it’s the best thing she’s seen all day. When she steps out of Scott’s embrace, she quickly falls into hers. Kira isn’t Allison – she’ll never be Allison – but in that moment, she’s never been more grateful to see her.

“How is he?” She asks as she draws away. “Is he going to be okay?”

Scott looks down at his shoes, his eyes all bloodshot and red. Kira takes his hand in both of hers.

“We don’t know yet.” She says. “His Dad is with them now, trying to get them to tell him something…”

The Sheriff… Lydia lifts her head, looking for the man. She spots him stood at the end of the hallway and quietly excuses herself. As she marches down the hallway, she passes Isaac and Allison’s father sat together. Seeing them makes her pause. They both stand when they see her, and she feels fresh tears prickling in the corners of her eyes.

She can’t talk to them – not yet – so she just gives them a little wave as she passes.

“Sherrif!” She calls and Stiles’ father turns at the sound of his name. The man tries for a smile and then breaks, his resolve crumpling. She stops in front of him and he stumbles forward a step, wrapping his arms around her. He’s the one Stiles should have called. Not her.

“You’re here.” He says. “That’s good. That’s good.”

She can’t hold in the tears anymore and she wraps her arms around Stiles’ father, sobbing against his chest.

She hasn’t cried like this since Allison’s funeral, when she’d locked herself for days and Stiles had hurt himself trying to break down her door. She sobs and sobs and it hurts. It _hurts._ After Allison, she thought she’d never hurt like this again. She hadn’t thought it possible. But of course Stiles would prove her wrong. Lydia’s hands curl into fists around the Sheriff’s jacket as anger burns through her. God, she hates him – _hates him_ for this – for making her feel this way – for making her love him.

She feels a hand at her back and she turns, seeing Isaac through her tears. She hasn’t seen him in weeks – the last time she’d seen him had been when he’d called her at three in the morning, drunk, and asked her if she thought it was his fault that Allison was dead. Sobs wrack her fragile body, her knees weak as he gently pulls her into his arms. She can hear the Sheriff talking in low voices to someone as Isaac guides her down the hallway, back to her friends.

Isaac helps her into a chair, he sits on one side and Scott on the other. They both hold her hand.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.” Isaac says, and she smiles weakly through her tears.

“You’re here now.”

They sit there for a long time in silence, counting the minutes.

A doctor comes to find them fourteen and a half hours after Stiles was attacked. Kira is asleep, her head resting on Scott’s shoulder, and Isaac has gone to get them something to eat with Mr Argent and Stiles’ father. It’s just her and Scott waiting when the doctor appears, walking down the corridor, running his hand through his hair wearily.

“Scott McCall?” The doctor asks and Scott quickly stands up. “I was told to speak to you. I’m Doctor Abrams.”

“Is Stiles going to be okay?” Kira asks from behind them.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’s out of the woods for now. I can’t say for sure that he’s going to recover – I would still advise that you prepare yourselves, in case the worst happens – but he’s out of surgery, and once his father sees him, you should be able to visit him.” The doctor says and though both Scott and Kira sigh in relief, she can’t bring herself to celebrate just yet. She still feels the phantom pain in her side and a scream waits at the back of her throat. The doctor seems to notice, he glances at her and smiles faintly. “Talk to him, I’m told it helps.”

When the Sheriff returns, he follows the doctor down the hall and disappears around the corner.

Lydia plays with a loose thread on the sleeve of her cardigan, trying to remember each element on the periodic table to keep herself busy. Scott and Kira are talking quietly, and she pretends not to notice the looks they shoot her way every now and again. They’re worried about her; she knows that, but she can’t bring herself to smile and pretend it’s all okay.

_Potassium – 19 – K_

_I love you, Lydia._

_Calcium – 20 - Ca_

_Always have._

Her fingers twitch.

“Damn you, Stiles.” She curses under her breath. “Damn you.”

Hearing footsteps, she looks up. Allison’s father falls into the seat beside her with a heavy sigh. She can’t imagine how hard this must be for him, how every minute of this hell must remind him of Allison, just like it reminds her.

“You can go see him now, if you want.” He says, smiling weakly when she meets his eye.

She gets up slowly, wrapping her arms around her torso as she follows Scott numbly down the corridor.

The Sheriff is stood by the door when they arrive at Stiles’ room, looking older than she’s ever seen him. Scott opens the door for her and she walks through, her heart racing a million miles a minute. The first thing that hits her is how still he is. It had annoyed her once, how restless he is – how he’s always fidgeting in his seat, leg bouncing, fingers drumming along to a beat only he knows, distracting her endlessly in class when she’s trying to concentrate. He’s hooked up to tubes and wires and there’s machines beeping around him. She falls heavily into one of the seats beside him and grabs his hand, clutching onto it for dear life.

“I’m here,” she murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere, so don’t you dare leave me.”

 

* * *

 

 

It takes three weeks - three long, torturous weeks – for him to wake up.

She won’t go home. She’s sharing a motel room with Kira and spends her days at Stiles’ bedside, waiting for anything and wishing the voices would go away. They’re growing louder and louder, she doesn’t know if it’s a warning or if they’re actually trying to comfort her. It’s not like there’s anyone she can ask about this shit.

As she takes her usual seat beside Stiles, alone for once – the Sheriff is getting breakfast with Mr Argent and Melissa, she sighs. The doctor had told her to talk to him, but she doesn’t know what to say. When there’s someone else with her, it’s easier. The Sheriff tells Stiles about work mostly, about his new cases, knowing how much Stiles would want to know every little detail. Scott and Kira say the normal things, comforting things. Like _it’s okay,_ and _hang in there, buddy._ Lydia can’t bring herself to say those things, not to him.

She wishes Allison was with her the most, holding her hand and telling her everything’s going to be okay. Allison had been good at that. She had always believed Allison. Thinking about her makes tears burn in the corners of her eyes, she scrubs them away before they can fall.

“You said… you said you wished for something.” She murmurs, gently taking Stiles’ hand in hers. She ignores how cold his hand is, she’s used to it by now. “Do you know what I wish for? I used to wish for stupid things – like being popular, leaving Beacon Hills and marrying Jackson – but it’s different now. _I’m_ different now. And a lot of that is because of you.”

His fingers twitch, but she doesn’t notice. The voices are growing louder, whispering things she’ll only understand when she screams. “I know high school is nearly over and we’ll all probably go our separate ways, but… I thought we’d be okay. I never thought that this would happen.”

She’d thought about him when she’d been touring Harvard, when it had suddenly hit her that they were all leaving and soon she wouldn’t see her friends every day. She’d looked at the beautiful buildings and gardens and wondered if there was any way he could come with her. He’s smart, when he applies himself. If he concentrates on classes rather than werewolves, then maybe…

Lydia squeezes her eyes shut and leans down so she rests her head on Stiles’ mattress.

“I can’t go through this again, Stiles.”

_Please don’t go,_ she wants to cry. _I can’t lose you too._

“Lydia…” She doesn’t want to open her eyes, knowing that it’ll be Isaac, or Scott, or someone come to tell her it’s time to go. She sighs, about to ask for five more minutes, when the hand she’s holding suddenly moves. She lifts her head slowly, her eyes opening. _It’s just a trick_ , she tells herself. _A figment of your imagination_. But the voices are quiet now, like they’re waiting.

“Stiles?” She whispers, looking up as his hand moved again. The corner of his lip twitches and his hand shifts, his fingers threading through hers. “Oh my god, Stiles.” She cries, lifting their hands and kissing the back of his palm. And then Stiles’ eyes are open and he’s smiling and he’s looking at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m so glad you picked up the phone.” He says, and when he looks at her like that – like he never wants to look away – she feels like her heart might burst. It feels like a dream, like at any moment she’s going to wake up and he’s going to be gone.

“I should go get your Dad –” She starts to say, but he stops her.

“Not yet,” he breathes and she slowly lowers herself back down onto the chair. There’s so much he wants to tell her, so many things he wants to ask, but instead he settles on what he thought had been his dying wish. “Lydia, will you go to prom with me?”

She laughs, a sudden, startled sound that bursts out of her, surprising them both. She hasn’t smiled in days and suddenly she’s laughing and she can’t stop. She grips onto Stiles’ hand, laughing until she’s crying.

“You get stabbed,” she laughs with tears streaking down her cheeks. “You put us all through hell. You almost _die,_ and the first thing you think about is _prom?_ God, Stilinski, you’re lucky I love you.”

Stiles grins.

“Is that a yes?”

She lifts their hands to her lips again, pressing kisses to his palm.

“Of course it’s a yes.”

 


End file.
